


Then Why Am I On Your Mind?

by serendipityinwords



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-23 00:07:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12493960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendipityinwords/pseuds/serendipityinwords
Summary: He doesn’t know that she takes the photo, of course. If he did, he’d hide his face, or roll his eyes, or cover the camera. For some reason, she just couldn’t have that. They don’t speak to each other the rest of the night and the camera burns a hole in the cradle of her hip.Because why would you get high and take a picture of the guy you hate?OrClarke is a photographer and Bellamy, unfortunately, becomes her muse.





	Then Why Am I On Your Mind?

**Author's Note:**

> Can you believe I haven't written an enemies to friends to lovers fic for bellarke yet? It's like why even have an ao3 account? 
> 
> Anyways, here is the fic I told myself I'd write like two months ago and only got around to writing last week. AND it's a multi-chapter fic, so. Good luck to me, I guess.

With all her talent with a camera, Bellamy’s indisputable good looks, and the considerable amount of time that she’s know him, Clarke’s still only managed to take one good photo of Bellamy. For once, they’re both at one of Monty’s parties and they’re both slightly high— Clarke a little more than Bellamy. He’s leaning against the wall, his head turned slightly upwards so the column of his neck is exposed and she can see him swallow clear as anything. His eyes are shut and there’s an easy smile on his face. The yellow neon lights from outside the window stains his face and it makes him look like he’s a small sun. She sets the light sensitivity of her camera high enough so you could make out the slight lift of his mouth but low enough that you wouldn't be able to see the freckles she knows he has. That’s just between the two of them.

He doesn’t know that she takes the photo, of course. If he did, he’d hide his face or roll his eyes or cover the camera. For some reason, she just couldn’t have that. They don’t speak to each other the rest of the night and the camera burns a hole in the cradle of her hip.

She saves the photo in her computer when she gets back to her room and gets it printed for good measure. It’s a damn good photo. But, she feels a little creepy. Clarke could count on one hand how many times she's seen him smile easily like that, even less if the smile was directed at her. She can't help but feel like she's intruding on something private, something that wasn't meant for her to see. _But,_ _that's all it is_ , she tells herself, _a handsome man smiling_. She’s taken a lot of candid shots in her time but she’s almost always shown it to the person if she could. She keeps telling herself that she’ll send it to him, she has his email. She sees Bellamy every week at the one class they both share. She could show it to him anytime she wants. He might even like it. But she stops herself every time. It feels like she’d be telling him a secret for some reason. She shoves the printed photo into her underwear drawer instead of placing them in her folder like she does with all her good work.

Because why would you get high and take a picture of the guy you hate?

Maybe hate is a strong word. She dislikes him. She dislikes a lot of things about him. She dislikes his misplaced arrogance, his well-placed anger at her privilege, his quick wit, the charm he reserves for everyone that’s not her. She dislikes that he’s friends with her friends and that they're almost the same but will never admit it. Most of all, she dislikes how he obviously doesn’t like her.

  
The first time she sees him after the party, it’s an accident. She’s at the library studying three whole weeks in advance because Indra’s class is notoriously difficult. Still, three weeks in advance is overkill. Or so Raven tells her when Clarke had asked her to come with. But her roommate's the smartest person she knows. She probably just downs a redbull and flips through her incredibly messy notes two minutes before the test starts like the robot in that one Will Smith movie. So what the fuck does she know, right?

Clarke doesn’t particularly like studying alone. She thrives on feedback. It's why she and Wells made such a good team. She'd quiz him and he'd remind her to go get a snack every now and then because she hadn't moved from her seat in hours. But now, her only real friend is Raven and Raven doesn't study. She supposes she doesn't have a choice.

Except, she isn’t alone. Bellamy’s already there. He’s wearing his glasses, reading a book she also owns but hadn’t thought to bring along. His laptop stays shut next to him and his large pile of books. She might have joined him another day, but the guilt of what she now refers to as The Stoned Mistake is still fresh in her mind and, to be honest, she just isn't in the mood to engage in banter. Or whatever the fuck they do. She sits at the table next to his and decides that that’s going to be the end of that.

Five minutes into Clarke’s, admittedly, distracted study session, Bellamy has other plans, because that’s just who he is as a person. He drops all his books (and it's a lot of books) on her table making Clarke jump and her headphones slide off her head. Clarke glares up at him. He has the good sense to seem apologetic at least, but he still sits down at her table.

“The library’s starting to get crowded,” he offers by way of an explanation. She looks around. It was indeed getting crowded. Almost all the tables were filled. Did everyone get more studious over break or is she so self-absorbed, she hadn’t noticed that she wasn’t the only hardworking student at Ark U? She knows what Bellamy would say. “I thought this would be more convenient, because—”

“We know each other,” she finishes. _I have a photo of you burning a hole in my underwear drawer_ , she thinks. “Facebook friends,” she adds, instead.

He grins at her and her stomach flips. “You won't be distracted by my study habits," he continues.

"You mean the way you whisper things to yourself when you can't figure something out?" 

He raises an eyebrow. "I was going to say my leg shaking but it’s nice to know you're paying attention."

She rolls her eyes but is sure the effect is ruined by her obvious flushing. "It's extremely creepy, it would be hard _not_ to notice."

"Sure," he says, "And I won't be distracted by your pen chewing. We both win.

Clarke glances down at the bite marks on her pen, annoyed. “Interesting choice of words,” she mutters.

“If nothing else," He says, leaning back in his chair and looking over her shoulder. "Finn wouldn’t come over to sit with you.”

Clarke’s ducks her head behind Bellamy’s truly unnecessary pile of books before she can think better of it. “Finn’s here?” she hisses.

“No, but if he were, he wouldn’t come over.”

Clarke straightens and shoots him an unimpressed look, and when he only snorts, she throws her chewed up pen at him for good measure.

“Ew.” Bellamy scrunches his nose in mock disgust. “Cooties.”

“Funny,” she deadpans.

“I’ve been considering a career in comedy.”

“Nah.” She waves her hand dismissively, already turning her attention back to memorizing parts of the heart. “Too pretty,” she tells him.

Bellamy snorts again but it’s a slightly off and his face goes a little red. She considers it a win.

The silence for the rest of the time they study together, isn’t exactly comfortable. But it’s not bad, either. He doesn't notice her pen chewing and she brushes off his weird muttering and leg shaking. Bellamy makes a face at her every time she looks up from her laptop and it makes her almost-laugh a few times. Clarke kicks him under the table a twice on accident and thrice on purpose.  There's no feedback or quizzing each other and she doesn’t think it occurs to him to ask her whether she’s eaten, but she still feels like she gets a lot more done than if she were studying alone.

When Bellamy leaves first, he offers her a lazy wave and takes only half the books from his Unnecessary Book Pile with him. She watches him leave over the forgotten lot, curious despite herself. He stops a little ways from their table to adjust the strap of his backpack. He’s framed by the two towering book shelves and the light streaming from the skylight she usually forgets they have. He’s like a walking art installation. Clarke hates him a little bit for it.

All in all, she’d say it’s one of those days where she feels like they maybe, sometimes  _could_  get along if they wanted to. A week later, when she sees Bellamy again, she’d already been in a bad mood after her run-in with Finn. Raven was with her and it made him asking Clarke if they could talk even more uncomfortable than it already was. Raven had made a break for it, leaving Clarke alone with the biggest mistake of her life. Still, she made small-talk with him just to get him off her back and yelled at him if it didn’t work. He'd only then left, but Clarke didn't doubt that he would be back. She wonders, idly, if she's allowed to be annoyed with Raven for leaving Clarke alone with her ex-- considering Finn was also Raven's ex-- when Bellamy walks by. She doesn't know what she wants from him. A good-natured smile? A conspiratorial eyeroll? Some concern over her obviously disturbed state? Just some semblance of their not-quite friendship, maybe. Either way, she gets nothing. She goes up to him and he nods at her, expression completely unreadable, before walking away. Any warmth from the day before had leaked out leaving something a little wider than the chasm that had already existed between the two of them. He wasn’t exactly mean or even impolite, but the meaning is clear. They were almost friends for a bit and he thinks they shouldn't be friends at all. Clarke doesn’t get sad about it. But she feels an aching in her chest that she doesn’t want to think about. So, she doesn’t. Instead, she thinks,  _well, fuck you, too,_  and unfriends him on Facebook.

When she sees him the time after that, he’s sitting behind her in the one class they share and she feels his gaze boring into the back of her head. For a horrified second, she thinks he knows that there’s a photograph of him in the drawer of her room, tucked somewhere between the underwear she’s outgrown and the lacy bras she hasn’t had the desire to wear in a while. But, of course, he couldn’t know that. Maybe, he wants to know why she unfriended him on Facebook. And she does, too, if she’s being honest. She’s always been a petty person, but this is a first. Still, Clarke highly doubts he’s checked whether they’re still friends on Facebook, is pretty sure Bellamy doesn’t care that much. It's not like he even uses it beyond fighting his bigoted relatives (which was entertaining and will be missed) and the occasional selfie with his friends that makes her heart twinge (which is confusing and will _not_ be missed).

When she still feels him staring, she comes to the logical conclusion that he just wants to get a rise out of her. Clarke’s mature enough to admit that it works, not quite enough to ignore him.

“What?” she snaps, turning around to glare at him.

She thinks she might have seen a flash of hurt on his face. But she’d obviously been mistaken because he smirks at her, long and drawn out. She bites her lips to stop herself from scowling. She’s better than that.

“I didn’t say anything.” He turns to Miller, “did I say anything, Miller?” Miller rolls his eyes, clearly exasperated, but shakes his head.

She's now completely turned around and is staring him down. “You don’t have to. I can feel the obnoxiousness coming off you in waves," she snipes. He raises an eyebrow and Clarke gives in, finally scowling at him. She’s clearly not better than that, but whatever. "It's a fucking wonder you don't get thrown out of public places just for being so obnoxious." 

It's not her best comeback and she knows he thinks so too when he opens his mouth, about to retort with something undoubtedly cleverer than _that_ when Brian pipes up from next to Miller. 

“Jaha’s about to start," he reminds them, "Could you guys keep it down before we get into trouble?”

Clarke’s about to apologize when Bellamy scoffs, almost cruelly. Her insides turn cold with apprehension. 

“The princess doesn’t have to worry about that, does she?”

Clarke doesn’t exactly blame him for saying that. She has come from privilege and Wells _is_ Jaha's son along with being her best friend. But, it still stings. Especially since Wells had moved months ago to Europe to get away from his dad. In her darkest hours, she feels like he moved to get away from her too.

All off a sudden, despite their weekly skype sessions and all the mutual friends Bellamy and Clarke might have, she feels unbearably lonely. To her mortification, tears spring to her eyes. She blinks them away before anyone else can notice. But Bellamy does, if the way the smirk slips off his face is any indication. For the first time, she wishes it hadn’t.

She sees him open his mouth to say something and immediately turns away, horrified. The one thing she hates more than his cruelty is his pity.

For the rest of the lecture, she lets Jaha’s familiar voice distract her from Bellamy’s obvious attempts at getting her attention. He’s coughed so much, Maya had offered him a cough drop from two rows over. It would make Clarke laugh if she could manage anything more than typing everything Jaha says, word for word. It’s too much effort to pay attention, she’s already using so much of it to stop her hands from shaking.

When the lecture is over, she practically bolts out of there, shoving right past Bellamy. He looks like he’s going to follow her but he must decide against it, because he stays rooted to the spot. She registers a huge sense of relief and, disturbingly, some disappointment. It’s mostly just pure exhaustion that leads her to make the decision to skip the rest of her classes that day and spend it wallowing in misery in her dorm room.

Clarke loves having Raven around despite their awful history, but today she’s glad her friend isn’t there with her. Clarke knows that if she were here, she’d drag Clarke out of the room they shared to get drunk or yell at Bellamy. And while she’s definitely tempted, all the motivation to do anything has drained out of her body. No, she’s fine this way, lying in bed, wishing she had someone she could simply  _talk_  to.

In a last-ditch attempt to feel better, she calls Wells, knowing full well that it’s the middle of the night over there and he’s probably asleep. She lets the phone ring four times and then hangs up. She’s just about to burrow into her pillows and go to sleep when she hears a knock at the door.

She doesn't really process it and opens the door fully expecting to see Raven on the other side. Obviously, she’d heard from somewhere that Clarke was acting weird and came to check on her. She couldn’t think of anyone else who cared that much.

“Hey, Rave—” Clarke stops when she sees Bellamy standing there. She almost doesn’t recognize him swaying on his feet awkwardly, with a tentative expression on his face and hands shoved into his pockets.

“Not Raven,” he offers lamely. 

“Bellamy."

“Hi.” He finally extricates one of his hands from his pocket and lifts it in an awkward wave.

Her brain finally catches up with the events that transpired today and she remembers to be pissed, despite how intrigued she may be.

Clarke crosses her arms across her chest. “What are you doing here?”

Bellamy rubs at his neck, wincing slightly, not making eye contact. “I didn’t mean it,” he says.

Clarke frowns, anger making way for confusion. He might have been sorry about the way it came out, but he wasn’t wrong. “Sure, you did,” Clarke responds simply, “You were right. Jaha’s never going to do anything to single me out.”

“Yeah," he admits, looking slightly less awkward, but awkward still. "but, I know you. You wouldn't do anything that would make him have to single you out. You're... good.” She can’t be sure, but she thinks the tips of his ears turn red. Clarke’s not entirely sure she isn’t dreaming.

She doesn’t know how to reply to that. So, she doesn’t. “I wasn’t mad at you,” Clarke tells him. Which is at least a half-truth. “I just miss Wells.”

“Oh,” he exhales as he visibly relaxes. Clarke’s, frankly, a little surprised that he’d gotten himself so worked about her.

He opens his mouth to say something but stops himself. Clarke finds herself transfixed, staring at a not-so-confident Bellamy Blake. An off-kilter Bellamy Blake. Maybe a grateful Bellamy Blake? She didn’t think he existed in those capacities. And if he did, he definitely wouldn’t let Clarke of all people see him like this. 

“Hey." She reaches out and squeezes his shoulder before she can think better of it.  Bellamy looks up at that, eyes widening slightly. "I’ll be fine.”

She doesn’t know why she says it. She only knows that she has the sneaking suspicion that Bellamy wasn’t about to let himself off the hook and, so, she had to.

She lets her hand linger there for a few more seconds, feels the heat his skin through the sleeve of his t-shirt. It's not altogether unpleasant, but it's the most physical contact they've ever shared and there's a tingling sensation all over her skin. It's new, she realizes. That's the feeling. _New_.

He smiles, soft, at the place where her hand meets his shoulder.  She lets her hand drop and he directs the smile at her. It's not like the smile in the picture she’d taken. It's a little guarded, and slightly smaller, but it's close. Maybe if she took a photo of him as he is at that moment, she wouldn't feel as bad as she did that first time. Maybe he wouldn't hide his face, or roll his eyes, or cover the camera. Because this smile is for her. The fluorescent  lights from outside the dorm room is harsh and washes everything out but she has a hunch he'd look beautiful. 

Eventually, he nods. “Okay,” he says and he turns on his heel. Clarke doesn’t stop him, doesn’t think he’d want her to stop him. “Okay,” he says again as he shuts the door behind him. Clarke drops back onto her bed and falls asleep realizing the photo of the boy she dislikes is still burning a hole in her underwear drawer and she might actually want him to see it. 

In the end, she doesn’t wallow nearly as much as she thought she would.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm at rubysvida on tumblr!


End file.
